In some alley on an early morning, the team of Alistair met up, this time without Alistair. Their conversation seemed to revolve round and round without aim, smiles reflecting fake emotions, laughter bereft of heart and soul.
"It's good we are all together," Salin said coldly. "How very nice."
No one replied to her words, as if forbidden. None could bear to say the true answer.
Finally, someone decided to take a stand, and it was only after silent minutes of uncomfortable "hello's" and "training matters."
"Everything just feels so wrong… It feels weird," said Isaac, scanning. Alistair not being there killed something; a vital chain in the group.
"It's all these people's fault," Elina said with a pout. Her heart ached with pain, fingers trembling. A range of indescribable emotions lurked in her mind—imploding.
